


Meet Me Halfway

by Himederes



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Fluff, Size Difference, Strangers to Lovers, but its mostly platonic, perona/mihawk if you squint, post whole cake island au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-07-14 13:03:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16041026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Himederes/pseuds/Himederes
Summary: Kaido is on the move again. Big Mom has suffered a humiliating disgrace at the hands of the Strawhat Crew. Gekko Moriah has been wandering, a wanted man safe from neither Marines and Pirates.Big Mom offers him a deal he cannot turn down: the protection of her family, and the chance to finally confront both Kaido and Luffy on equal ground, all in exchange for his obedience.But Linlin does not make alliances lightly. A marriage must be involved.Katakuri's recent failure has marked him down as a candidate to be married off for the first time in his life. And Moriah still has something akin to a daughter of his own somewhere out on the seas. Two unlikely bartering chips meet in an equally unthinkable match.





	1. Chapter 1

Sometimes, during sleepless nights, Perona would light a candle at her bedside table and watch the shadows and light play on the ceiling of her room. She recalled reading somewhere that there was, in truth, no such thing as the "color" black. 

 

What was perceived as black was, in reality, an absence of color; the default shade produced from the lack of photons of light. 

Perona, of course, being the glum child she was, had refused to acknowledge this fact. 

Other colors were nice, she liked red and purple and pink, but black was her favorite color, and always would be.  
Black was the color that she chose to paint her life with. A shade she felt best defined her.

She had grown up with an appreciation for the dark and grim, raised by a man with a penchant for the macabre.

She was used to an island where death and rot was a consistent theme, and where the sweetness she projected with her pink and ruffles was mere dressing that added a cute twist to the strange and disturbing things she found herself so very in love with.

Thriller Bark had been a gloomy place, with towers and corridors and grand chambers that served no true purpose beyond the aesthetic that their captain had so loved.

She could still recall, as a child, Moriah manipulating the shadows in her room into animals for her, putting on little stories with the characters he bent from the darkness she was slowly learning not to fear.  
Their crew was small then, with no undead bodies to count among their numbers. Just a disillusioned man who had lost it all, and the three others he had managed to pick up. Wherever her captain took her, that was home.

Kuraigana was her first home since before memory where Moriah had not led her. It met her goals for the ideal residence, yes, but it was an odd place, and despite her two years spent here, she wasn't fully used to it.

The island was was, in many ways, near identical to Thriller Bark, and tonight, like so many nights before, she absentmindedly found herself wandering the halls.  
The castle here was vast, and with only two people living in this bleak place, it was lonely.

Thriller bark was lonely too, but she had her zombies, and she had Moriah, and with that she could pretend she wasn't as alone.

But on Kuraigana, things were still and unmoving.  
  
Even the garden she had taken up growing with Mihawk attracted no animals but the Humandrills, and green had yet to grow from the soil.  
  
The shadows that danced across the wall as her candle flickered with her every step were lifeless. She was not a little girl anymore, and her captain would not be telling her stories with the shadows tonight. If he hadn't died in the Summit War, he was dead now.  
  
Two years is a long time to go with no news from the man who raised you.

"Ghost girl?"  
The voice of the sole other inhabitant of the castle echoed through the hall from Behind her.

Were it not for how she was floating a foot or two off the ground, she would have tripped over her own feet in surprise. Mihawk was not one for late night wandering.

 

"You can't sleep?" Perona turned to face him, her obnoxiously frilled nightgown whipping it's way around her ankles with the sudden gust of air.

"I'm a little restless. That's all. Why are  _you_  awake?" she crossed her arms, tapping her fingers against her arm as she gave him an accusatory glance.

 

He didn't get to call her out for being awake when he was doing the same.

Mihawk pointed behind his shoulder at an open door.

"The light of your candle hit me over the eyes. It's hard to sleep through that."

"O-oh."

"Is something troubling you?" He narrowed his eyes.

"I'm..." She paused, blinking slowly "Wait, are you... asking if I'm alright?" She raised a brow, honestly a little shocked at the show of concern, before Mihawk responded.

"You go through far more candles than you would if you slept normally. It doesn't take much to deduce something is wrong." Perona realized they didn't call him Hawk Eye for nothing. This man was stupidly perceptive.

Perona wanted to speak, to say something. That she was homesick, that her excursion to Thriller Bark a week earlier had not brought her face to face with Moriah, nor with Hogback or Absalom, but with mountains of lifeless corpses. 

She had brought back Kumashi, in her joy at a familiar face, but quickly found that it was like carrying around a large stuffed animal with a faint, lingering stench of mildew.  
Kumashi, or what remained, was in another wing of the castle, until she could find use for him at a later date.

She wanted to ask if Mihawk had ever experienced this feeling of abandonment before, but as far as she knew, he had always been a man who traveled and worked alone.

She even wondered if he truly felt concern for her, or if he was just trying to be polite.

Two years earlier, he had described her as his unwelcome guest, and two years later he had never truly explained if his views on her presence had changed.

"I'm fine. I'll try not to pass your door again."

He looked slightly suspicious at what had, admittedly, been a long pause before her response, but nevertheless gave a brisk nod.

  
"Try not to stay up much longer." He turned on his heel, and halfway through closing the door, she heard him add

"The garden is in a sorry shape, and farmers need to wake up bright and early."

It was the first time she heard him joke. As she continued the last rounds of her late night stroll, she found herself silently hoping that, maybe, she had finally found herself in the closest she could get to everyday normalcy. It was comforting.


	2. Chapter 2

It was truly a marvel to Perona that the News Coos even delivered to this corner of the grand line.  
  
With only two inhabitants capable of literacy, it really couldn't be the most successful business model.  
  
But nevertheless, Perona found herself drawn to the paper each time it arrived.  
  
Stories from around the world, all Four Blues and both halves of the Grand Line poured in with each delivery, giving her a brief glance at the outside world.  
  
Mihawk, of course, got to read it first. She always was eager for her turn though.  
  
The stories never really mentioned anyone she knew from her days in Thriller Bark. At least, not since the war.  
  
She had long since given up on searching the paper for news on Moriah.  
  
Even if Mihawk was right, and he didn't die on the battlefield as was said, whoever had enough influence to put the false news story in the papers surely would never let it slip if he was still alive.  
Of course, there were always the tabloid columns, little backwater islands that claimed to have caught a glimpse of him, but she shrugged them off. Without solid proof, what use was it to keep up hope?  
  
No, now Perona busied herself with the gossip column, the advice column, and the occasional news on the strawhats.  
  
The last she heard of them, their bounties had gone up after an altercation with the former Shichibukai, Doflamingo.  
  
Now, as she tapped her foot and waited for Mihawk to finish up this week's paper,  
She wondered if this was just a trend among that crew. Sticking their noses into the business of each Shichibukai in their path and screwing up life for everyone close to them.  
  
Their recent defeat of Doflamingo had come as quite the shock.  
  
It had even managed to gain a slight look of awe from Mihawk. To go against Doflamingo’s subordinates, he had said, would mean Zoro has been progressing fairly nicely since they last saw him.  
  
Perona had caught a glimmer of excitement in his eye. He was bored without a rival on equal footing, and she knew it.  
  
Mihawk awaited the newspaper almost as much as she did, but his enthusiasm was subtle.  
Quiet.  
If she hadn't been living with the man all of two years she wouldn't know how to pick up on it, but she could tell he was just as eager for information as she.  
  
Mornings with Mihawk were typically all spent the same way. Since Zoro's departure, the humandrills had been restless.  
But when they started their garden, that's when things started to change.  
  
The beasts had shifted from fighting to farming nearly overnight, and seemed to enjoy the pastime.  
They tilled the soil with joy behind her, planting seeds into the land with fanged smiles. She wished she was so easily amused.  
  
The gardens were for growing mundane, useful things. Vegetables and fruit.  
So far, nothing had taken to the soil, but Mihawk said it was only a matter of trial and error. Persistence. Good crops take time.  
  
"Your turn."  
  
The crinkling of newsprint caused her to turn back around.  
Mihawk stood from his seat and handed Perona the folded paper.  
  
"There's something interesting here. Something very interesting."  
He had a slight smile on his face. Slightly off-putting. This had to be something big.  
  
Perona furrowed her brows, unfolding the paper and coming face to face with a large photograph of what looked to be... an island of cake?  
The Strawhats' ship was there, surrounded by many others.  
The text at the top read, in bold, massive print. "Strawhat orchestrates failed assassination attempt on Big Mom. Monkey D. Luffy: the fifth Yonko?"  
  
She couldn't believe what she was seeing. Was this some kind of joke?  
Her eyes skimmed the words several times over. This had to be fake.  
  
She turned to Mihawk, who was rolling up his sleeves, pushing his hair back, and taking a garden hoe from where it was set against a rock.  
"Are they serious?" She scoffed.  
  
Mihawk raised a brow  
"The paper has been known to lie before, but only to suit the interests of the World Government. Publishing this has no positive effect, quite the opposite really. One of the Worst Generation taking on a Yonko and living to tell the tale is one thing, but this…” He paused, glancing at the paper.  
“Have you even read it yet?"  
  
Perona shook her head with an embarrassed flush and Mihawk narrowed his eyes.  
"We can discuss it in detail once you read it. The Strawhat crew is making unprecedented progress. But what this means for the rest of the world may not be good."  
  
Perona looked down at the paper once more. "What do you mean?"  
  
Mihawk swung the garden hoe around and dug it into the soil, keeping his concentration fully on his work as he spoke.  
"The last paper said that Kaido is on the move again. Now we hear news that Big Mom has been challenged. And if Strawhat Luffy can be considered to have joined the ranks of the yonko in strength... Big Mom will not just sit by after this. She'll want to see Strawhat dead, no matter the cost. We'll all feel the impact of this somehow."  
  
Perona sunk into her chair.  
"You might feel the impact, Mr. Shichibukai, but no one's after me. I'm in early retirement."  
His disappointed glance didn't bother her in the slightest as she leaned back in her chair, giggling to herself.  
And so she began to read. After all, how dangerous could a woman who lived on an island of cake really be?


	3. Chapter 3

Gekko Moriah had never once in his life felt truly small. He had always been the largest one in the room, and took immense pride in the imposing aura he gave off.  
  
But the woman before him was massive. He would barely reach her chest standing next to her, certainly a first for him. She was wider too, a testament to her country's fame as a land of sweets and candies.  
  
He thanked whatever higher power was out there that she was laying down. Had she been standing, he may have started quaking in his boots.

And Gekko Moriah did NOT _quake_.

  
"You've really got some balls showing up in my waters."

The infamous Yonko, Big Mom, looked at him with an expression best described as a cat sizing up a mouse caught under her claws.  
  
Charlotte Linlin was a terrifying woman. She was a murderous, neurotic, crazed, power hungry madwoman.  
And despite it all, she was his last hope.  
  
"I have my reasons."  
It took everything in his power to keep his voice from cracking as he spoke.  
  
"You’re in no place to be a smartass. Are you here to die? The papers said you were already, might as well finish up the job. It's one hell of a way to go out."  
Several people in the room with them, her children, he assumed, laughed under their breath.  
  
One man stepped forward. He was, like his mother, fairly tall, but only came to around half of Moriah's height.  
  
He had the most ridiculous hat Moriah had ever seen, and he was missing his right arm, which was securely wrapped in bandages.  
  
He sneered up at Moriah from beneath a comically long and pointed nose.  
"Perhaps he's one for theatrics. I can appreciate a man who wants to die in a flashy way."  
  
Everything about this man was unsettling, from how his tongue constantly stuck out of his mouth to how Moriah could see candy shards embedded in his flesh and the red angry marks of a healing infection from beneath the bandages.

Charlotte Perospero… Moriah recognized that face from the wanted posters. A vile, cruel man, infamous for his sadistic nature.  
  
The threat he was issuing was clear. This particular Charlotte was sizing him up for a torturous death.  
  
"I'm not here to die."  
This earned a smile from both the odd man and from the Charlotte matriarch, who shifted in her seat, an unsettling smile growing on her face.  
  
"Oh? And why _are_ you here then, Gekko Moriah?"  
She drew out his name in a way that made him want to cringe, but he stood strong.  
  
A deep breath, then another. Best to just say it.  
  
"I'm here to propose an alliance."  
  
There was silence, and then loud, obnoxious cackling. Big Mom nearly fell off of her couch, and she clutched at her sides.  
  
Perospero spoke up.  
"We've gotten quite a few offers over the years, but an alliance deal with a dead man bereft of any crew to call his own is certainly a new one."  
  
Linlin's face was streaked with tears from laughter. She wiped at her eyes and looked at Moriah with a wild grin.  
"I heard about you in your prime, you know... You faced Kaido and lost. Slunk into your own little corner of the Grand Line with the goal of building an undead army. A whole crew of nothing but shambling corpses.”  
  
“I had… three others. Living crewmembers. But my ability guaranteed that as long as I had corpses at my disposal, I had an army.”  
  
“Hm...Tell me, where is that army now?"  
  
Moriah shifted his gaze to the floor. "There were some setbacks, two years ago."  
  
"Setbacks like how you're supposed to be dead right now?" She snorted. "How do you lose and entire army? They were mindlessly obedient, weren’t they? Did you just let them free?"  
  
If only it were that simple. Every power had it’s setbacks, and Moriah’s was not immune to this. He was counting on this explanation to carry him through, but Linlin was unpredictable at the very best.

Considering the recent news, this was the best time possible to approach her, and simultaneously, the worst. How he phrased what was to come next could be a great boon, or completely fatal.  
  
“Setbacks like Monkey D. Luffy.”  
  
Perospero made a move to lunge at him, his undereye twitching, but this was stopped by a quick glare from his mother. Her eyes returned to rest on him, her grin turning into a snarl.  
  
“Strawhat?”

“He decimated my army, split up my crew, and this all ended with a nice little surprise that the government wanted me dead.”  
  
“So you escaped your own execution?”  
  
Moriah Scoffed “Executions have some sort of dignity. They were going to slaughter me and make it look like an accident. They failed the first part but went through with the second. If I wasn’t in hiding, I’d wring that boy’s neck for what he’s done.”

Big Mom paused, looking him up and down, and for a moment she almost looked impressed.

  
“First Kaido, then Strawhat… you and I have enemies in common… Still, I'm going to be the one who kills Monkey D. Luffy. Not Kaido, and definitely not you."  
  
Moriah gulped. "I would never suggest otherwise."

With a great heaving effort, Linlin hoisted herself off of her couch, rolling onto her feet. She began to pace in circles around him, gazing down at him intensely from under full lashes caked in a layer of crusty mascara.

  
"I've lost three alliances in one day thanks to that brat. The Fire Tank Pirates, the Fishman Pirates, and the chance at acquiring all that Germa 66 had to offer. What can Thriller Bark give me if you're all that remains?"  
  
He shifted slightly on his feet, glancing around the room. Big Mom's subordinates all watched him with mild amusement. He felt death was almost an arms length away, and then-  
  
Big mom halted her pacing, arms crossed over her chest.  
"I'll cut you a deal you can't refuse."  
She narrowed her eyes and a smirk grew on her face.  
"You'll submit yourself entirely to my service. You'll be one of my crew from this day forward. You'll use your power for me now, to aid me directly in killing strawhat, _and_ Kaido if he gets in my way.”  
  
Moriah’s mind was racing a mile a minute. He had sought Big Mom’s protection, true, but he was hoping for an alliance. An equal exchange. And the last thing he hoped for was to ever see the monster of a man who slaughtered his closest friends so many years ago.  
  
But what choice did he really have here?

“If you do that, I'll make sure you're kept alive. I'm sure it’s better than being on the run."  
  
It couldn't be this easy, he realised.  
  
“When you recruit people like this into your crew…”  
Recruit was a nice word for it. This was practically enslavement, but Moriah didn’t want to push his luck with cheeky word choices.  
“You typically don’t put a job so big in their hands right away, don’t you?”  
  
Linlin’s grin widened. He was clever, picking up on that much.  
  
“We can call it... a semi-alliance. I’ll give you a job I know you’ll have the drive to do. You aren’t some scruffy pirate I forced onto my crew, you’re valuable. Even if you have fallen this far. And... I missed out on a Charlotte family alliance tradition recently.”  
  
Something was wrong. As his eyes scanned the Charlotte siblings, they all looked increasingly uneasy. The one armed man slowly turned his head to Linlin.  
"You don't mean to...?"  
  
Her grin widened to an unsettling degree.  
"I was robbed of a proper wedding, and I've been meaning to set an example after my son's failure."  
  
Perospero seemed to freeze in place, his tongue sliding back into his mouth as he shook in his boots.  
  
"Not you!" She yelled, causing him to let out a sigh of relief, however short.  
“The one still in recovery. The disappointment. The freak.”  
  
The Charlotte children seemed to whisper among themselves quietly. Whatever was happening, it didn’t appear to be good.

  
“Charlotte family alliances work differently, Moriah... I'm sure you've heard. Now, what I'm about to ask will determine if my offer goes through, or if you die right here where you stand.”  
  
Moriah could feel his heart pounding against his ribs.  
He knew that Big Mom was a brutal woman, but what could he possibly offer her more than what he had? She was already asking for his life on a platter.  
"You said you had three _living_ crewmembers, hm?"  
  
He gave a shaky nod.  
  
Linlin’s expression lifted, her eyes shining with delight.  
  
“Do you have any daughters?”  
  
Moriah's thoughts were racing a mile a minute. Daughters? He'd never had the time. Never had a spouse of his own, never settled down, never raised- he paused.  
  
The shadows of the room flickered in an ever so familiar way, and he found himself deep in thought. Memories of pink pigtails and nighttime ghost stories rushed through his head.  
  
He supposed...  
  
"...Just one."


	4. Chapter 4

Whenever Mihawk left the island, it was quite the affair.    
  
The Humandrills would help him ready his small coffin boat with the minimum amount of supplies, and he would make a detailed list of everything he intended to bring back to Kuraigana.   
  
It was a rare occurance, to be certain. Mihawk was the kind of man who prefered to keep to himself, if he could help it.   
  
He may have denied it up and down, but Perona knew that the garden was an excuse so he wouldn’t have to leave the island as often for fresh groceries.    
  
It was rather funny to her, and she would often jokingly ask if his next step would be chickens or cows.    
  
But Perona had to admit, she loved the brief excursions out to the next island over, and would hate to see them gone.   
  
The neighboring island was a rather mundane place, a summer island just before their own, with a flower dotted landscape and a nice port town.    
  
The distance between them could be crossed in a day, which was good considering the rather tight confines of Mihawk's only ship.   
  
Initially, Mihawk had refused her any chance of sailing with him. The raft was simply too small, and should she slip off of the tiny deck, her being a Devil Fruit user would make her an inconvenience.   
  
She had argued her competence with him for months. She had initially stated she could simply astral project herself and float above the raft, but it didn't take long until he let her know the distance between the islands.   
  
He was correct in assuming she couldn't hold up her projection that long.    
  
So she did something she really hadn't done in years. She trained.    
  
Perona knew her fruit was very strong. She was very proud of her abilities.    
  
When she was small, she assumed they all revolved around her ghosts. Every fruit had surface abilities that one instantly was made aware of, and causing depression wherever she went was an easy and efficient power.   
  
Then came the discovery of explosive ghosts. A faster, more physical attack that she honed as a young girl in training rounds with Absalom. You couldn't send negative hollows after what you couldn't see, but you could create a ghostly minefield with much more ease.    
  
Then, with Moriah's help, she learned surveillance networks. Her Ghosts performed regular patrols around Thriller Bark, securing the ship from most threats.    
  
Keeping them up was simple and didn't cause her the slightest bit of strain, though they were an unnecessary precaution nowadays. Kuraigana was really only known to her, Zoro, Mihawk, and the few shopkeepers on Irios she liked to chat with.   
  
Now that she had practically retired from combat altogether, her favorite skill was her astral projections. These were her most unique skillset. She wasn't summoning a ghost, she became one herself.    
  
Flight was a lifelong dream to most people, and something she could achieve easily. And she still could remember the look on Moriah's face when she figured out how to make it appear as if she had grown to his size.    
  
Of course it had always been a constant that she couldn't actually change size or fly. These skills were illusionary. While she could see and hear through her projections, she was not actually there. If you tried to touch her, your hand would phase right through. At least, until now.    
  
Perona had mastered her new skill in a matter of weeks, shocking even Mihawk. Now she didn't have to hide herself when she wanted to float.    
  
She had learned how to really, physically fly.    
  
There were no projections involved, simply her body levitating off the ground as high or as low as she wished. It was an amazing feeling.    
  
And most importantly it meant she would not fall off the raft.   
  
Now she sat perched on the top of his single small sail, looking at the vast open ocean and the fast approaching land, having earned her place aboard this vessel.    
  
She was proud. Mihawk was a solo pirate, the only one she had ever known, but perhaps, in some way, this marked her as his first crew member.    
  
His... sail-sitter? No, she thought to herself, _ lookout  _ sounds much more professional.   
  
She was his lookout.   
  
Hawkeye Mihawk's eyes.    
  
Not that he needed them, she thought, but it felt good to be a part of something again, even as minor as grocery shopping.   
  
As they docked at port and moored themselves to the pier's posts, she found herself mentally making a list of all the things she needed for herself.   
  
The small town bustled with activity, just as with any other day. Fishermen selling their day's catch, children running about, and what looked to be a few tourists.    
  
In stark contrast to the damp, foggy darkness of Kuraigana, this island, Irios, was bright and sunny.    
  
The buildings were a clean white plaster with blue and orange clay roofs, and garlands of brightly colored flowers strung between homes, as per local tradition. It was hot, but not unpleasantly so.   
  
Perona preferred the dark and the cold, but Irios was very cute, and she couldn't deny the charm she found in the place.   
  
"I'll head downtown for the basics." Mihawk stepped forward and dropped a small bundle of Beri in her hands.   
"Budget wisely this time."   
  
Her eyes shone with excitement. With this she could stock up on so much!    
  
Her favorite mascara had run out...    
  
She could use some rosebush seeds to liven up the gardens...   
  
She wanted more of those bubblegum pink candles she'd worn through on her midnight walks...   
  
She needed new stockings too, all her old ones had runs in them.   
  
She was so caught up in thought she almost missed Mihawk turn to leave and disappear in the crowd.    
  
She pushed her way to the other side of the sea of people where she could see him just about to turn a street corner. He was brushing aside some young man with a large camera who looked to be hounding him for a photo. Paparazzi?   
  
"Wait!"   
  
The swordsman paused and faced her.   
"Do you need something else, Perona?"   
His tone was flat, but his brows were raised in concern.   
  
She realized she must have looked rather ridiculous, a ball of pink curls and petticoats popping out of a crowd with this determined look on her face.    
  
"I'm going with you to the garden shop, I want to pick out rosebush seeds."   
  
The young man next to Mihawk looked dumbfounded for a moment as she spoke so casually to the Warlord. His eyes flickered between the two of them on both ends of the street.   
  
Then it all happened in an instant.   
Several quick flashes of light in both their directions and then he was off at an ungodly speed, grasping his camera for dear life.   
  
She hated being photographed when it wasn’t on her own terms.    
This was awful.    
But judging by Mihawk's face, he was equally upset, if not more.   
  
"Sorry..." Perona muttered.    
  
He simply sighed.    
"I'm a Shichibukai out in public, it's unavoidable. Though it looked like he got more of you than me. A small blessing, really."   
  
She tilted her head, a sly grin on her face.   
  
"Not one for the paparazzi, Hawk Eye?"   
"I'm not photogenic."   
She could swear she saw the corners of his mouth turn up just a fraction of a centimeter. Damn his dry humor.   
  
"But... are you ok with me tagging along?"   
  
He blinked for a moment, seeming to have forgotten her initial question for a moment, then gave a brisk nod.    
  
He turned down towards the winding streets then, Perona floating after him.   
  
"So how come you don't think you're photogenic?"   
"I just don't look good in pictures."   
"Is it the weird facial hair?"   
"I- you think it's weird?”

Mihawk stroked at his chin for a moment, looking mildly offput.   
"You should shave it to something less ugly."   
  
Perona heard him groan under his breath and lifted herself just a few more inches off the ground as her smile widened in sadistic glee.    
  
The shopping was fun, but the real highlight of these trips, she wouldn't admit to anyone, was finally having some company.   
  
The owner of the gardening shop was a kind, sweet old woman. Her shop was small, but on a major road, and she got visitors from all corners of the world.    
  
The back wall behind her checkout counter had framed pictures of famous people who had stopped by, including Mihawk and several high ranking Marines.   
  
And she was great for conversation, always having the best local gossip, or stories from her youth as a sailor.   
  


Even an old woman’s company was a welcome change to the deafening silence she knew she would soon return to on Kuraigana.


	5. Chapter 5

Katakuri held the newspaper in his bandaged hands, gaze flickering between the thin pages and the large man seated across from him.  
  
The hospital room he had been situated in was an unsettlingly clean shade of white, and the black clothed man in the seat by his bed clashed violently with his surroundings, a visual sore on what was already a deeply unnerving situation.   
  
Moriah, walking straight into Tottland. It sounded like the setup to a bad joke he'd heard once. This was most likely not the punchline.   
  
The girl in the photo he had been shown shared almost no resemblance to the former Shichibukai, and for that, he supposed he should be grateful.   
  
Gekko Moriah was not a particularly handsome man.   
  
Still, if he squinted, he could see similarities.   
  
Her eyes were dark, and though the black and white image revealed nothing, Moriah had explained that the girl had pale pink hair.   
  
He supposed that was similar enough to Moriah's muted fuschia hair and coal-black eyes.   
  
Perhaps she was tall, like her father. That could save Katakuri some awkwardness, though with the current state of things, he severely doubted he could find any freedom from such inevitabilities.   
  
The situation Katakuri had found himself in was less than ideal. Still, family would always have to take priority in these circumstances.   
  
He had spent the last week in recovery.   
  
They had found him, he was told, lying on his back, unconscious, bones broken and with a great deal of both internal and external bleeding.   
  
There had been a hat covering his mouth; one far too small to be his own.   
  
Straw Hat Luffy had been an honorable man, beyond what was ever expected of him.   
  
It was a kind gesture, but one that had largely been in vain.   
  
No matter how high he pulled his scarves, he was certain that Moriah had already learned of his monstrous appearance.   
  
Flampe had started the gossip, which was further backed up by the nurses who tended his wounds and the first responders at the scene.   
  
The image that he had spent decades building had crumbled to ruin around him. The unbeatable Katakuri, the man with the perfect image and the flawless skill in battle, decimated to such a point where he couldn't even eat without assistance. 

And what level of cruelty that was that the fates had left him with... he could see the medics assigned to him since as they spoon fed him the soft foods he could just barely manage to get down.

  
His titles in Tottland barely mattered anymore. He governed an entire island, and yet had lost his ability to command respect. 

 

He was horrified with himself that he had lost in the first place. He had yet to leave his hospital room, and yet he already knew public perception of him had been drastically altered.  
  
His dignity was long gone, and if his mother wanted to deal one last punch with an arranged marriage, he would accept it.   
  
The newspaper headline read "Mysterious Young Girl Spotted with Dracule Mihawk! The Solo Pirate Finally Building a Crew?"   
  
It was a ridiculous tabloid column, and were it not for how it was specifically pointed out to him, he would never have found it worthy of a glance.   
  
"You weren't aware your daughter was with Mihawk?"   
Katakuri spoke, his eyes never leaving the newspaper column.   
  
"We've... been out of touch. Since a little before the Summit war. I had two others who claimed loyalty to me but they've also both gone their separate ways."   
  
When Katakuri looked up, he couldn't help but feel almost a twinge of pity for the man in front of him.   
  
He'd seen men broken beyond belief and yet, Moriah's vague uneasiness was more unsettling than most full out fear.

 

He had waltzed into the lions’ den, and now there was no way out. So he played along, attempting to look calm. But Katakuri was an observant man.  
  
Moriah’s sharp teeth pulled at his lipstick lined mouth, creating gaps in the coloring where his natural pale lip showed through. He kept an upright posture, trying his best to hide his unease.   
  
Katakuri couldn't say he blamed the man for his fears. This was far from the ideal situation for either of them. And hospitalized or not, Katakuri knew that he was an intimidating looking man with a notable reputation. Moriah was right to be nervous.   
  
His skill in combat had kept him free of marriage for much of his life, certainly a rare feat within the Charlotte family.   
  
Anyone with something substantial to offer in terms of defensive potential was never married off. It gave others too much power over them if they had something to lose.   
  
But then again, Katakuri assumed this was precisely why his mother had arranged this marriage.   
  
The girl was pretty, he supposed that was a mercy, but so young... She had to be in her mid twenties at the least.   
  
Katakuri had always looked much younger than he actually was, but that didn't change the fact that there was a significant age gap there. Could he really do this with a clear conscience?   
  
"Have you reestablished contact with her? Has she been made aware of this arrangement?"   
  
Moriah gave a cocky grin.   
“She hasn’t, but she’s not one to go against what I tell her. When she gets word that I’m alive, she’ll come along.”   
  
His overconfidence was starting to piss Katakuri off.   
  
“I doubt Mihawk is enjoyable company. He’s always been a quiet bastard, and she’s far from that. I had no idea where she was before, but, of course, with this newspaper, I have a lead... it mentions an island. Irios. It'll be a bit of a journey to retrieve her, but I'm sure that with your mother's backing..."   
  
Katakuri folded the paper as best as he could with his bandaged hands, making sure that the girls photo was on the inside, away from sight. The longer he could postpone thinking about the inevitable, the better.   
  
"She'll give you your backing. You'll be arriving on that island with one of our ships, under our protection. We’ll pass you through back into paradise with guards."   
He paused.   
“If I know my mother, it’ll be equal parts for your protection, and to make sure that you can’t run if you get second ideas.”   
  
Moriah paused for a moment, shifting in his seat.   
"I appreciate what your family is doing for me. And for her. You're giving us both a new chance."   
  
“It’s not for your benefit.”   
Katakuri spoke bluntly. He wanted to speak his mind fully. To say what he thought.   
  
That Moriah was a washed up failure, that he had no place on this crew, and that everyone in the family agreed.   
  
He wanted to say that he had no interest in this whole affair, no interest in Moriah or this girl, and no personal intention to help either of them beyond what was expected of him.

 

If either of them betrayed the family, he’d cut them down just as mercilessly as anyone else. There was no room for sentimentality.  
  
But instead he nodded solemnly, gave him a brisk "You're welcome," and bid him goodbye.   
  
As the ex-Shichibukai's hulking form left Katakuri's hospital room, Katakuri placed the folded newspaper on his nightstand.   
  
Charlotte family marriages were impersonal. Political.

Strategic.

He had never been fool enough to consider marrying for love, and he supposed that was a small mercy.  
  
… He didn't even know her name.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that chapters have been scarcer lately! I'm busy with finals, but I'm eager to get to these two meeting!


	6. Chapter 6

Moriah came for her on a crisp autumn evening.  
  
The weather on Kuraigana was just beginning to grow into that slight chill Perona had come to love so much, and fog rolled down the hills in a soft blanket of all encompassing mist.   
  
It had been an uneventful day, one full of short exchanges of words between her and Mihawk.   
  
The News Coo had arrived earlier. She had seen it disappear beyond the trees while she was out working the land, but Mihawk hadn't come to show her.   
  
He remained sequestered inside, but she knew him well enough not to pry.   
  
Her pink polish hid the sight of dirt still wedged under her nails, but her flower garden had progressed nicely.   
  
Yes, it was shaping up to be just like any other day, had it not been for the arrival of the hulking form of her former captain standing at her front door.   
  
He was different from the last time she saw him. Dark circles framed his eyes and he had a ragged appearance to him, despite his clean, new clothes.   
  
To the untrained eye, he'd look to be the same man as before, only laden with a heavy amount of stress.   
  
But Perona had grown up wandering the corridors and forests of Thriller Bark, her childhood spent playing on the embalming tables of Hogback's workshop, little hands rifling through drawers of thread and formaldehyde.   
  
She could spot areas in his skin covered by makeup and cosmetic wax, the same methods used to dress a corpse.   
  
To make them pretty.   
  
The same unnerving methods Hogback had used on Cindry, the fixation of his disturbing necrophiliac fantasies, the same ways to fix a ruined body and make it look presentable, were dotted along his exposed face and neck.   
  
He had suffered great wounds, and was doing a damn good job at covering them.   
  
Her former captain, at his massive height, was the first person she'd ever seen that could justify the massive size of the doors at the castle she now called home. She found herself at a loss for words.   
  
For a moment, there was deafening silence.   
  
Perona couldn't quite say who was the first to break it. Was it him, with his toothy smile, and his small utterance of a greeting she couldn't quite make out in her shock?   
  
Or was it her, with her hands clasped to her mouth, and the loud, ugly crying that followed?   
  
She floated up to him, vision obscured by tears. Shaking, she felt him rest a gloved hand against her back to steady her, awkwardly offering his arm as a perch to sit on.   
  
She felt like a child. Small, fragile, and consumed by shock, crying in Moriah's arms. Overcome by her emotions and shaken to her core with the realization that, yes, he was alive, and he had come back for her.   
  
The first thing she heard spill from her lips made her wince.   
  
"Moriah... You look terrible."   
  
It wasn't exactly wrong, but she could see from how his expression dropped that it wasn't the response he had been expecting.   
  
But... what kind of reaction was he expecting?   
  
"I... suppose I do. The years can't be too kind on all of us, you kn-"   
  
"They said you were dead."   
  
Moriah paused completely this time, stiffening up, but Perona didn't relent.   
  
She lifted her face from her hands, cheeks wet with tears, and slammed her tiny fists against his chest in anger like a furious little child.   
  
"They said you were dead! It's been two years! What are you doing here now?"   
  
He swallowed, eyes shifting. He had clearly changed in these past years, and his confidence had wavered.   
  
She could see there was something eating at him.   
  
Guilt?   
  
She damn well hoped so.   
  
She knew it was childish, that she was possibly being a little selfish. He had been hurt far more than she had.   
  
But the sting of abandonment, to her spoiled self, almost hurt worse than the sting of his death.   
  
His fingers twitched slightly at his side, as he carefully weighed his words.   
  
"I saw you... in the newspaper. Believe me, I've wanted to find you for so long, I just... I never knew where to find you."   
  
"You tracked me through the newspaper?"   
  
She silently thanked the nosy reporter and the trashy tabloid column she'd been featured in.   
  
"It mentioned you were with Dracule Mihawk, on an island called Irios. Through the residents on that island, I was able to find this place."   
He gave her a rare genuine smile, the same look she recalled from her childhood.   
"You have no idea how relieved I am that you're alright."   
  
He was relieved that she was alright...?   
Perona felt a weight off her shoulders.   
  
This was all just a great misfortune then?   
  
Her heart swelled at the idea of going back to normal.   
  
Kuraigana may have been her dream vacation, but it would never be home.   
  
She wiped her tears from her cheeks, getting back upright and hovering out so she could be at eye level with him.   
  
"So we're finally going back to Thriller Bark?"   
  
Moriah froze.   
  
For a moment she believed it to be him considering his words again, until she felt a gaze on her back.   
  
Hawkeye Mihawk stood below the both of them, at the base of the wide open doors, with an expression she could only describe as the closest she'd ever seen to bewilderment. A folded newspaper was clasped in his one hand.   
  
His mouth was slightly open, with his brows raised.   
  
His gaze flickered between them before resting on Perona.   
  
"You brought company."   
  
She couldn't tell if he was trying to joke, or seriously believed she had somehow invited Moriah into his home, but nonetheless skipped to the defensive.   
  
"I didn't invite anyone. He's just showed up on his own."   
  
Mihawk leaned against the doorframe, quirking a brow.   
  
"Tracked you, more like. I don't allow unwelcome guests on my island, Gekko Moriah."   
  
In any other situation she'd remark on the hypocrisy of that statement, but now with these two powerful men facing each other, she felt it was no time to make jokes.   
  
"He won't cause problems for you. He's not here to fight you. He's here for me."   
  
Mihawk took a small step forward, eyes firmly trained on her captain, but as expressionless as possible. Even she couldn't tell what he was thinking as he opened his mouth to speak.   
  
"You're taking her with you?"   
  
Moriah nodded.   
  
"If she's willing. I need her back now more than ever."   
  
Perona could see the telltale signs of irritation on Mihawk's face. He lifted the paper in his hand, pointing at a grainy photograph.   
  
Absalom?   
  
The cat like portrait was unmistakably him.   
  
"You're here to retrieve the ghost girl as a last minute choice because Blackbeard killed one of your old favored lackeys. The Newspapers are reporting on this heavily. The loss of one of their most infamous stealth journalists."   
  
Perona felt her heart sink. She was a last minute choice? She supposed it made sense.   
  
Hogback and Absalom had incredible uses to their captain.   
  
She had always been felt like a spoiled child compared to them.   
  
"You're only back to secure your own safety." Mihawk continued. “I don't doubt her abilities to stay alive out there, but I do doubt that a lone man with no allies and many enemies would be beneficial company. You'd drag her down."   
  
Moriah looked taken aback by his bluntness.   
"I understand your concern. But she's not my last minute choice. I'm not her captain anymore."   
He turned back to Perona, ignoring Mihawk's piercing gaze.   
"I'm not expecting you to come with me because you still see me as such. I'm not captain of anything now. I gave that all up. I'm asking you, with all sincerity, as the closest thing to family I have, to help me."   
  
"You're.. not my captain anymore?"   
The idea felt strange. For him to show up at her door and ask for her help not as an order, but as a request? It was absurd.   
  
Something was very wrong indeed.   
  
"Perona."   
  
In the past, he only spoke her name in serious circumstances.   
  
"Thriller Bark is gone. And that may be for the best... If you come with me, I can't take you back to how things were. But I've been granted sanctuary with the Big Mom pirates... under the condition that I bring you along."   
  
Perona's mind was racing. The Big Mom pirates?   
  
She'd never given them much thought in the past. They were a distant threat that had nothing to do with her.   
  
A massive, powerful crew with a fearsome captain, but one that she'd never possibly encounter.   
  
Until now.   
  
"Is this a joke?"   
Her voice came out as a hoarse whisper.   
  
"What reason would I have for that? The Big Mom pirates know my abilities, but yours  they only know through my testimony. They're eager to meet you... and to welcome you to the family."   
  
Perona ceased in swaying her body with the wind, her body levitating completely still.   
  
"They want to... what?"   
  
She could feel Mihawk's gaze narrow even without looking.   
  
"There's no way to sugarcoat this. I suppose in some ways, your new friend here..."   
  
Moriah shifted his gaze to Mihawk, before turning swiftly back to her as the shorter man's eyes caused a cold sweat to run down the back of his neck.   
  
"Well, I suppose he's right. I am coming to you to save myself. There is a ship, moored at the docks, full of crewmen supplied by Charlotte Linlin to help me retrieve you."   
  
"Why do they want _me_? You're the famous one. I'll follow you if you ask, so don't think you have to-"   
  
"They're here because I promised your hand to the Charlotte family."   
  
If there ever was an expression that denoted, precisely, a deep, all consuming sense of dread, Perona swore she saw it flash briefly across Mihawk's face in that instant as their eyes met out the corner of her eye.   
  
Mihawk was not an emotional man, anyone knew this. But the look of horror he showed reminded her of their discussion over the newspaper weeks ago.   
  
She may have seen Big Mom as a joke, but to an experienced pirate like Mihawk, her crew was a major threat that even _he_ couldn't face alone.   
  
"There's a son Linlin wants married off. She's demanding you for a bride. I'm not forcing you into anything, I don't have that authority anymore. But I would be lying if I said I'd leave this island alive if you choose to stay behind."   
  
To say Mihawk appeared upset at this exchange would be an understatement. But as he looked down at the newspaper he gripped so tightly in his hand, he stepped back.   
  
This was not his decision to make.   
  
Perona, meanwhile, was reeling. She had received far too much shocking news at once today.   
  
Moriah was alive.   
  
He had come back for her.   
  
He was no longer her captain.   
  
Absalom was dead.   
  
Moriah had joined the Big Mom Pirates.   
  
... and his life was resting in her hands.   
  
The choice was obvious.   
  
"I already thought I'd left you to die once. That guilt ate at me every day for two years. I'm not going to do it again."   
  
Moriah had been her protector since childhood.   
  
She supposed the time had come for their roles to be reversed.   
  
She was scared, but there had never been a time she remembered where Moriah hadn't been there for her when she felt the harsh grip of fear.   
  
He was here again.   
  
And she knew it would be ok.   
  
Mihawk let her leave with shocking nonchalance, watching her and Moriah gather her things with a blank face.   
  
He sat in his favorite armchair, and each time she came back to pile more of her belongings in the main chamber, she passed him, his eyes trained on the same stretch of newspaper.   
  
His overall attitude conveyed a harsh indifference that almost made her doubt she had seen any emotion in his eyes at the front door.   
  
She dragged out Kumashi's mildewy remains from where she kept him, excitedly showing him off to Mihawk, trying to elicit a response.   
  
"Isn't this great? I'll finally have Kumashi back to normal now."   
"So the patchwork bear corpse has a use? Strange."   
  
He took a sip of his tea.   
  
"I-I'll be sure to write... when I get there, I mean. I know it'll be tough on your own again."   
"I don't care either way."   
  
"But... the farm... our gardens..."   
"I'll manage well enough on my own."   
  
"You're so rude! You'll at least miss my cooking!"   
"I'm usually the one who makes meals."   
  
He'd never been so distant since she first met him. And as she stood over his chair, he didn't even make eye contact, his eyes simply fixed on the damnable newspaper.   
  
It was better this way, Mihawk thought to himself.   
  
He had never expected Moriah to come back for her. And he, begrudgingly, had realized long ago that he had come to enjoy her company.   
  
But whatever fondness he felt for her, he had to stop, and now.   
  
She was leaving, and it was for the best.   
His eyes skimmed the newspaper article once again, almost as if willing the words to change with enough effort.   
  
"Radical Changes Proposed at Reverie: Will the World Government abolish the Shichibukai?"   
  
If this idea had enough backing to be reported on, it was gaining traction.   
  
Mihawk was a strong man, and had no lack of confidence.   
  
But he was not stupid enough to ignore the implications of this article.   
  
If his status was revoked, he would end up the same as Crocodile, as Doflamingo, as Moriah.   
  
The same as any other criminal who fell from the World Government's good graces.   
  
His location was known to them, and any day now a fleet could be at his doorstep.   
  
He could be subdued. He was strong, but he was just one man. Enough powerful marines combined could defeat him.   
  
Mihawk could imagine the sting of shackles, being lead in chains to Impel Down. A worst case scenario, but a possibility, nonetheless.   
  
It was a risk he would not involve her in.  
  
He watched, with a solid poker face, as Moriah scooped up all of her belongings in his massive arms and carried them out, her and her pink curls floating behind him.   
  
He couldn't protect her anymore. She would be less safe with Moriah if he was still on his own, and if that was the case, then perhaps Mihawk would have allowed himself a moment of selfishness, and kept her around.   
  
But Moriah had offered the support of a Yonko.   
  
Big Mom was an unstable woman, but one with childlike ideals of the perfect family. Perona would be made a part of that inner circle.   
  
It was dangerous, but the lesser of two evils.   
  
He didn't want to give her any reason to want to stay.  
  
If she was too attached to life here, with him, that would make it harder for her to grow accustomed to what was to come.  
  
"The warlord system is outdated"   
The paper read.   
"Too many times these past two years it has proven ineffective. Several key figures are campaigning for it's abolishment."   
  
He was a relic of a bygone era, but the Yonko? Nothing short of a war could make them budge from power.

  
  
The paper was lowered by a small hand, and his gold eyes met her black ones. He could see the beginnings of tears forming, before she handed him a single pink rose.   
  
The roses from her flower garden. She'd been trying to get these ones to grow properly for months.   
  
"This one was the first to bloom... I saw it yesterday. I was so excited but... you deserve to have it."   
  
He took it in his hand. It was beautiful. A light morning dew shone on the petals, remnants of the creeping fog from earlier in the morning.

  
She gave him a genuine, heartfelt smile when he looked back at her. 

  
"It's dead... This little life you've put so much effort into. You're okay with that?"   
  
Neither of them were sure if he was entirely referring to the rose.

  
  
She blinked back tears as she folded her hands over her lap. She lowered herself down, her feet touching the ground.   
  
"Promise you'll write me back?”

  
He nodded.   


“I promise.”

  
There was silence between them, and then she left the way she came.

  
And for the first time in two years, his home was quiet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hoo boy Oda really threw me a bone with this latest chapter... I used a lot of the stuff from there in this.  
> I nearly hurt myself writing this chapter. I'm gonna miss Mihawk... but we're so much closer to getting this show on the road! Also, to everyone who comments, I see you and you all make my day each time! Thank you so much for reading, it means the world.


	7. Chapter 7

It felt like ages since Perona had been on a real ship.

The feeling of the breeze against her skin and the spray of saltwater that tousled her pink curls were foreign sensations.

The journeys she had made in the past two years were brief, and Thriller Bark had never retained the same feeling of a ship.

It didn’t rock with the waves, and she couldn’t hear the sounds of the sea.

It was just like the early days.  
  
Her and Moriah, on a journey across the open seas.

At least, it would be, if this was like any other ship.

It looked like a children’s toy, or like a fancy dessert, but far from anything that could be called a pirate vessel.

“You’ll get used to it.” Moriah had told her with a laugh.

How she could get used to _this_ , she’d never know.  
  
It was the first night on board, and there was a long voyage ahead of them.

Crewmen shuffled across the deck behind her, and Moriah laid back against the mainsail. The ship was sizable, and there was no doubt that her captain _could_ fit below deck, but he seemed to prefer the sight of the stars.

She had yet to go down below, and was, in all honesty, quite nervous about what space she’d be shoved into. The place was like a technicolor nightmare, and it pained her to imagine how uncomfortably sticky a bed made of candy or food would be.

  
“Admiring the view?” 

Perona turned her head to meet a tall girl, with two bushy brown pigtails, and bangs that covered her eyes completely. She recognized her from when she first boarded- how could she not. She was hard to miss. Perona barely came up to her waist.

  
“I-Yes.”

The girl stepped forward, crouching down to lean against the railing with Perona.  
  
“You really must not get to see the stars much, huh? That island you were on is real foggy! And so many pine trees! A whole forest of them!”

She laughed.  
“There aren’t many natural forests where we’re headed.”  
  
Perona raised her brows. “There’s no trees in Tottland?”  
  
The girl snorted, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear but leaving her comically long bangs still obscuring her eyes.  
“Of course there’s trees, just… it kinda all looks like this.” She gestured to the ship. “Sweets. Bright colors. You’re in for a real culture shock.”

Perona couldn’t say the idea of a dessert themed island was entirely unwelcome, but she liked a balance of creepy and cute in her life. This ship was nauseatingly sweet, like a little dollhouse. She missed her little dreary corner of the castle already.

“Tottland is all candy? I’ve seen photos in the newspaper, but I thought that surely-”  
  
Perona was cut off by laughter. “It’s all like that, for the most part! We have an ability user in the crew who makes it that way. You’ll never run out of food while your in our family, at least!”  
The girl extended her hand. “I’m Charlotte Harumeg, by the way. Welcome aboard… if you haven’t been welcomed already.”  
  
Perona smiled, repeating her own name.  
  
“It’s gonna take a lot of getting used to. Tottland, I mean. It’s unlike anything else you’ll find on the Grand Line.”  
  
Harumeg motioned for Perona to follow her below deck, and, confused but not wanting to be unnecessarily rude, she went along.  
  
The walls below looked to be gingerbread, seamed together with a crown moulding of icing. It smelled overwhelmingly sweet.

  
“We get new recruits often, mama being a Yonko and all. But it’s a really special thing to have someone join by marriage! It’s expected of all of us at some point or another.”  
  
Perona gulped as Harumeg lead her around a corner. Right, that’s what this was all about, wasn’t it?

An arranged marriage with some unknown man.

Harumeg swung open a door, beaming as she gestured to a large room. It was nicely furnished, with six beds, a wardrobe lined wall, and a seating area in the corner. Her suitcases lay to the side of the bed furthest to the wall, and four girls were in the process of unpacking them.  
  
Before Perona could make a move to protest these complete strangers rifling through her things, Harumeg piped up.  
  
“Here she is! Finally decided to join us down here. Our lovely sister-in-law!”  
  
Before she could blink, Perona found herself surrounded by Charlotte girls. They all looked similar to Harumeg, if only a little shorter.  
  
“Welcome to the Big Mom Pirates!” One said.  
“Perona right? I’m Fuyumeg.”  
“Nutmeg.”  
“Allmeg.”  
“Akimeg.”  
  
Harumeg placed a hand on Perona’s shoulder. “I told them to get to work in putting away your clothes for you. I hope you don’t mind. We’re family now, after all. Well, more or less.”  
  
Fuyumeg nodded.  
“It might seem overwhelming to you, but we’re really going to do our best to help you out. We’ve been preparing for your arrival. It’s been a lot less short notice for us than you.”

The girls laughed.

Perona tried to push aside her nerves as best she could, opting to sit on the bed she had to assume was hers, squeezing behind the stack of suitcases. To her delight, the bed seemed to be perfectly normal, fabric sheets and all. She supposed not everything was edible.  
  
“Are you sure you don’t want me to help?”  
  
“Nonsense!” Harumeg scooped up a stack of folded shirts and moved to place them in a drawer in the wardrobe. “We’re going to pamper you while you’re here. You’re in shock. It’s a lot to take in. We figured it’d be as much. So just relax.”

Easier said than done.  
  
The one who introduced herself as Akimeg- or was it Allmeg- placed an ornate tray of pastel macaroons in her lap. “Do you like sweets?”  
  
Perona opened her mouth to answer but was cut off by Allmeg- or, again, was it Akimeg? They looked too similar to tell. “You’re going to have to develop a taste for them if not.”  
  
Perona shakily nodded, picking one up and taking a small bite.

She had only been on board for less than a day, and already was confronted with the prospect of five near-identical girls with more energy than she'd seen in two years. Five girls who she'd have to learn to tell apart if she was going to be living with them. This would be rough...  
  
“Are you- quintuplets?”  
  
Harumeg shook her head from across the room, the action visible through her swarm of sisters only due to her height. “We’re decuplets, actually. There’s ten of us all together. Five girls, five boys. An even split.”  
  
Perona nearly choked on her macaroon. “T-ten?”

  
Great, more people, she thought to herself. How many children did the infamous Big Mom have? She was starting to understand the name.

Nutmeg sat beside Perona. “You won’t have to worry about us overcrowding you. The boys didn’t come. We're here as emotional support, I guess. This isn’t really enough of a high risk job to justify having all ten of us.”  
  
Perona wanted to say she already felt overcrowded, that she was stressed out of her mind. But all she could manage was widening her eyes, pursing her lips and giving an affirming nod before popping another macaroon into her mouth. To the Charlotte Girls' credit, these were delicious.  
  
“You know, you don't really look that much like Moriah. I guess the hair is kinda close...” Nutmeg popped a macaroon into her mouth. "You're his only child?"  
  
“I am.” She chose to leave out responding to the first half of her statement. It wouldn’t do any good to explain that Moriah wasn’t her biological father.  
  
“You’re so lucky!” Nutmeg moaned, leaning back onto Perona’s bed and pouting. “I can’t even imagine being an only child.”  
  
Perona laughed, the girl’s playful whine making her loosen up a bit.  
“And _I_ can’t imagine having siblings. When I was growing up, it was just me, Moriah, and two others on our ship. I was the only young one there.”  
  
There was a chorus of disbelief from the decuplet girls as they packed away the last of Perona’s now successfully emptied suitcases.  
  
“You must have been lonely!” Harumeg said, dropping down onto her bed with a loud thump.  
  
“Seems like when we were growing up their was a constant stream of babies at home! And being decuplets, I don’t think there was ever a time we felt like individuals.” Said Fuyumeg.  
  
“I don’t think we ever get treated like individuals _today_.” Nutmeg laughed “The quiet you lived in must have been unbearable! Especially spending these last few years with a man like Hawkeye!”  
  
“I heard he’s mute. That he communicates just through stares.” Allmeg squinted her eyes comically and swiveled her head around at her sisters slowly, gaining quite a few laughs.  
“That’s why they call him Hawkeye! ‘Cuz of the eyes thing.”

“He’s not mute. And he doesn’t do... whatever that is.” Perona snorted, shoving Allmeg playfully, causing her to roll over with a grin. “The solitude wasn’t so bad. It worked out for me. I like the quiet.”

“Katakuri likes quiet too! You’ll be perfect together!”  
  
“Kata… kuri?”  
  
“Your husband to be!”  
  
And there it was again. The reminder that she was in this for the long haul. Married off to a man she didn’t know.

So his name was Katakuri.

He likes silence.

She supposed that was as good a start as any, and snagged another macaroon to eat away her stress.

It wasn’t like she had much of a guide to what a relationship was meant to be. Storybooks didn’t count, and she didn’t ever want to think about Hogback and his corpse-wife again now that she could help it. The best she could hope for was that he wasn’t some kind of creep.

“What’s he like? Katakuri?”  
  
Harumeg placed a finger to her chin, thoughtfully. “Silent. Stern. And very strong. We’re all honestly surprised they finally set him up with a wife. It looked like he’d never marry.”  
  
“Is something wrong with him?” The words slipped out of her mouth before she had a chance to think on them, and she immediately regretted them by the faces on the Charlottes’ faces.  
  
“There’s just rumors… I wouldn’t pay them any mind.” Nutmeg rose from Perona’s bed, moving across the way to her own.  
  
“That’s right. We’re his sisters, we know better than island gossip. Our brother is a good man. The strongest man I’ve ever met. You’ll be happy together. Never be in any danger. He’s a gentleman. Katakuri has always been honest and reliable.” Fuyumeg looked just the slightest bit unsure of her own words at this, and it set Perona on edge.  
  
Their little talk carried on into the night, the subject frequently diverted from this mysterious man in question whenever Perona tried to sneak him back into the conversation.  
  
The bed she was in was too pillowy soft, the covers felt entirely different from the ones on Kuraigana, and as she stared up at the ceiling of biscuits and buttercream icing, she missed tracing the cracks in the stone more than anything.  
  
She missed the whisper of wind through the branches of long dead trees, the damp chill of the fog outside her bedroom window, the squeaking of mice and bats and all manner of foul things in the night.  


This saccharine sweet room was the first start to a new normal she wasn't entirely sure she was ready to face. But as she thought of Moriah, the poor man sleeping above deck for months on end, just on the off chance he may find her again... she felt like a whining child.   
  
And oh, yes, she wanted to scream, wanted to whine and kick up a fit.  
  
But in her heart of hearts she knew that she couldn't bear to spend one more moment blaming herself for Moriah's death. Not again.  
  
They say that there are moments in every pirate's life where their loyalty to their captain must truly be tested. She had given up her loyalty to _Captain_ Moriah long ago when she was given that chance, but that's not what she regretted.   
  
Moriah was her family. It was a dysfunctional, macabre caricature of a family, but he had always been there for her.   
  
Through all his tribulations, through all the pain that she knew he carried with him, he had stuck by her. Always keeping her at a fair distance, but far closer than she suspected anyone with trauma such as his would allow.   
  
  
He placed trust in her, raised her up from childhood with the firmly held belief that whatever life threw at her, he'd helped her grow strong enough to survive.  
  
He had built up from scratch an army of invulnerable corpses who's loss would mean nothing.  
  
An army, and one young girl who he cared for enough to set aside the nagging fears she knew he had and hope that, just once, he might not lose this one.  
  
She supposed this was her trial by fire. Not a trial of loyalty to a captain, but to family.

And if keeping her small, broken family intact meant marrying into a new one, then she'd do it. There would be no more running.  
  
  
  
She decided that night, twisting over in a cocoon of sheets, that she would walk into this with her head held high.  
  
As far as anyone here was concerned, she was the proud only daughter of the bravest pirate she'd ever known.   
  
Brave, mysterious, strong, whoever the _fuck_ Charlotte Katakuri was, Perona noted to herself that he had better be ready for her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man! It's been ages since I updated this. I hope people haven't forgotten about this little story. A lot's been happening in my life. I've transferred schools and majors, and that's been pretty hectic but hey! Perona's met her first Charlottes. And what a confusing batch to first be introduced to... As always every bit of attention given to this fic is super appreciated! Every comment means so much to me.


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